


Helping Friends

by Breadyboyo



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25316914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breadyboyo/pseuds/Breadyboyo
Summary: Bill had wondered if anyone else noticed it. Wondered if anyone noticed how Richie seemed to daze off one too many times. How his gaze seemed distant - like he wasn’t truly there with them. How he was so jumpy that when one of his friends grazed his hand, he flinched.ORWhen Bill finds Richie - all alone and sad, it's up to him to cheer him up.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough & Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Helping Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! Thanks for taking the time to check out the fic! This will be the first time I'm dipping my toes into this fandom, so there are bound to be Out-Of-Character moments somewhere in there. That being said, please do enjoy the fic!

Bill had wondered if anyone else noticed it. Wondered if anyone noticed how Richie seemed to daze off one too many times. How his gaze seemed distant - like he wasn’t truly there with them. How he was so jumpy that when one of his friends grazed his hand, he flinched.

Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he continues walking home with his friends. Realizing that he had forgotten something back at the clubhouse, he sends the losers a quick wave before hastily making a u-turn, back to the Barrens.

Halfway there, he stops in his tracks, noticing something on the ground. There on the dirt, laid a set of footprints going off the beaten path. He contemplates the chance that it might be one of Its tricks. Something that It conjured to lure him into a trap of some sort. _It also could be one of the missing kids,_ Bill thinks, and with that conclusion, decides to follow them - cautious and wary of any possible dangers that might jump out and attack him from behind any number of the trees around.

After following the prints for a good while, they end at the foot of a huge tree. Its size is almost comparable to that of Derry’s Standpipe. Then he hears it. He’s not sure what he heard, so he takes a moment to focus - trying to stifle out the chirp of the birds and rustling of leaves and. He hears it again, and then he realizes that what he’s hearing are _sobs_. Sobs that are soft and quiet. He’s not sure where they’re coming from, so he decides to check the area for the source.

Walking around, he notices a small opening behind the large tree. It’s small, but it seems to barely be able to fit someone around his age. Concluding that the sounds must be coming from here, he decides to crawl inside, slowly moving his arms and legs to reach the other side.

He’s surprised to see what’s making the sound. A disheveled-looking Richie is sitting there - knees up to his chest and head nestled in between, sobbing. Bill huddles over to his side, poking his friend’s glasses. Richie seems to finally snap out of his daze, looking surprised at his friend’s presence.

“B-Bill?” Richies stammers out, shocked. “What are you doing here?” he asks, taking off his glasses and wiping the tears in his eyes.

“S-saw some f-footprints, so I de-de-decided to f-fuh-follow them.” Bill stutters out, electing to give Richie a quick hug, wanting to soothe his nerves. “F-F-Found this big tree, heard s-suh-someone crying. W-what were you d-duh-doing here?”

Richie sounds anxious when he responds, “I j-just needed some alone time, Bill. Everything’s fine” he answers, slowly untangling himself out of Bill’s embrace and fixing his glasses. “I think I’ll be going. I’d appreciate it if you kept this place a secret from everyone.” Richie says, standing up before sluggishly heading towards the exit.

His gut tells him there’s something wrong. He doesn’t know why he feels so, but he just knows that something is going on. He doesn’t want to ignore the knot in his stomach and the voice in his head that’s telling him to not let him go, so he goes for Richie’s arm and holds on to it, stopping Richie in his tracks.

“B-Bill?” Richie turns around, noticing his friend’s grip and futilely trying to pull out. “What’s wrong?”

“Richie, suh-suh-something’s wrong, and y-you know it.” Bill says matter-of-factly. “Y-you can t-t-tell me anything. Y-You know th-that, r-ruh-right?

“Everything’s fine, Big Bill. I told you already, now please let go of my hand.” Richie retorts, trying again to withdraw from the hold his friend had him in - to no avail. Bill notices how fixated Richie seems to be on his arm.  
“Ri-Ri-Richie, ca-can you show m-me your arm?” Bill asks, voice wary.

“What? Why?”

“Puh-puh-please, Richie.”

Richie is visibly panicked at this point - sweating profusely as he begins hyperventilating. Bill is there to pull him into another hug, trying to calm down his friend’s nerves.

“It’s o-ok, Ri-Ri-Richie,” Bill whispers to the boy in his arms, rubbing circles onto his back.

“I’m s-sorry, Bill.” Richie mutters, calming down as he stifles his sobs.

They end up staying there for a while, holding one another in a tranquil embrace. After what seems like an eternity, Bill lets go and quickly scans his friend. Richie looks like a mess. Eyes bloodshot from all the crying he’s probably done, hair in a curly, fuzzy mess.

He pokes Richie, getting his attention and pointing at his arm. Richie seems nervous, but relents, finally pulling up his sleeve - revealing the appalling sight. Bill is jarred, to say the least. He expected something bad, but nothing like this. Small cuts and slashes littered his arm. He wants to ask ‘where did these come from?’ or ‘how did you get these’ but instead asks: 

“D-D-Did y-yuh-you do this, R-Richie?”

Richie nods - looking away and shutting his eyes close in fear of Bill’s reaction.

“W-Why?”

“I-It felt nice. I know it’s bad b-but I couldn’t help it, for once in my life I felt something good.” Richie explains, looking down in shame. , Richie?” Bill stutters out, looking over all of the small, little cuts scattered over his arm - shaken just by how many there were. 

“A while ago.”

Bill notices the vagueness of the answer, wondering just how long this has truly been going on for.

“R-Richie, y-y-you nuh-nuh-need to tell so-someone about this. T-This is s-s-serious.”

The response is instant.

“N-No!” Richie jerks away, fear in his voice. “N-Nobody can know about this!”

“T-This is serious!” 

“Please, Bill. Nobody can know about this.” Richie responds, desperate. “Please. Promise me that you w-won’t tell anyone about this.”

Bill sighs in frustration. On one hand, he wants to help his friend with what's going on, but that’ll require telling somebody else. On the other, he wants to keep Richie happy, and keeping quiet about it will do that. He decides he can’t do either.

“H-How a-a-about this, then? I d-d-don’t tell a-anyone, b-buh-but you don’t do any of this…” Bill gestures at his arm. “E-Ever again, okay? If y-yuh-you want to. You c-c-can come over to my house.” Bill

“O-ok.” Richie answers, wiping his tears. 

“Promise?” Bill holds out his pinky.

“Promise.” Richie smiles, reciprocating the gesture.

“N-Now, let's g-guh-get out of here. The o-others must be wo-worried sick.” Bill gestures to the crawlspace, holding Richie close as they leave.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Richie agrees, holding Bill’s hand close.

“Hey, Bill?”

“Y-Yeah, Richie?”

“Thanks, f-for everything.”

Bill smiles, “O-Of course, Trashmouth.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading to the end! I want to improve my writing to be able to give you all higher quality fics in the future, so any comments and feedback is greatly appreciated. See you next time, then!
> 
> XOXO Breadyboyo. (hey, that rhymes!)


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